Never Knew
by shallowness
Summary: Never knew how much I loved youNever knew how much I caredBut when I put my arms around you... AlecRachel vignette.


Notes: Written for roonblah for her '100 words or more on a pairing' request. Title and summary adapted from the lyrics of 'Fever' (John Davenport and Eddie Cooley.) Spoilers for 'The Berrisford Agenda.' With thanks to FridayAngel for the beta.

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine and I make no profit from writing this derivative fiction.

Never knew: shallowness

The seating arrangement had all been Rachel's idea. 494 had followed her into the living room, never letting on that he knew the exact layout and dimensions of every floor and room in the house. Yet he was unsettled as she nodded at him to sit first. He took his place on one of the replica antique chairs, watching her light a tableside lamp and go to dim the rest of the lights in the room, his eyesight adjusting immediately, giving him a better view of her approach. Involuntarily, he swallowed - she wasn't coming to sit next to him.

Before he could start talking at high speed, camouflaging what couldn't be nerves, she had nudged him back into the chair with the lightest of touches. She took the space available for her on his lap, half-facing him, and though the chances of her falling from her perch were slim, it seemed right to put both his arms around her waist.

Her smile told him it was very right, and he mirrored her reaction.

"Where were you when the Pulse hit, Simon?" she asked after one of those silences he was starting to treasure, no unwelcome order likely to break it.

He lied, of course, like he always did. He didn't really remember the Pulse. Manticore had its own back-up generators and the Xs hadn't known the full extent of the Pulse's effect until they'd needed to be briefed for missions. Like this one.

494 didn't grimace, his mask too controlled for that. Spending time on the outside, in Lehane's place, even at the Berrisford's full of plush carpets and furniture, all lit up to advantage, he could see why they divided time according to the Pulse out here, where before he'd assumed it was an affectation – a weakness.

Having given her some answer, he waited for Rachel to get to why she'd asked him the question, to tell her own story. Holding her like this, he could be very patient.

"I was in a swimming pool," she murmured. "Back then there were competitions – for racing. My mom always came to my meets. Daddy too, when he could. They were only competitions between schools, but I took it all pretty seriously."

He smiled, familiar enough with the image of Rachel as a longhaired little girl from all the pictures around the house.

"So I guess I was probably underwater, thinking about my style and breathing when the Pulse hit. Daddy came to find me, took me out of swimming class. We didn't know what was going on, but the roads were— they were chaos. I kept looking at him – I couldn't get over the fact that he'd come for me himself; normally I'd meet the driver. That was how I knew how awful it was."

He tightened his arms around her, wanting her as close as he could get her, past, inferior DNA and all.

"There weren't any more races after that day, school was shut. The pool too."

Another silence fell as one of them remembered, and the other imagined.

"I like to dive into water and stay submerged, just for long enough that I can't hear the world outside."

He remembered all the tests he'd endured to determine whether he had optimal X-5 lung capacity. Turned out he did.

"For years, I liked to pretend that when I came back out, things would be back to the way they were. Did you ever do that, Simon? Pretend it could all go back?"

She was twisting herself around a little more to look at him. Simon, 494, hell, he didn't know who he was right this moment, put on his face. The Pulse hadn't made much of a difference to Manticore, after all. So he shook his head slightly.

"I'm a realist." Soft, faint acknowledgement crossed her face and he wanted to take it away like an unwanted crease on fatigues. So he pulled her down to lean against him and asked, "What about playing the piano? Did you start doing that before the Pulse?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't until after, when the TV was always news instead of cartoons and they kept me in the house, that was when I started loving it for what it was."

He wanted to tell her that he could see that, every time she played, and it made him veer close to forgetting to get her to mind her dynamics and all the other slips she made naturally. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn't trust himself. So he pretended for a while longer that sitting in a quiet room with Rachel in his arms was safe.

FIN

Feedback (including concrit is always welcomed.)


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